See How the Other Half Lived
by TakeMeOrLeaveMe2010
Summary: Max wasn't the only one in the Carrigan family who faced the hardships of war. Pre-ATU to DuringATU. Slightly AU at the end, but not really. -oneshot-


This is pre-ATU, purely another idea that popped into my head

**This is pre-ATU, purely another idea that popped into my head.**

**Because damn it, I like writing the Carrigans. Even the jerk-face ones.**

**It's also slightly AU at the end. (When I mean slightly, I mean slightly. It's nothing wacky.)**

**Oh yeah, and it's long. Sorry.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**--**

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Carrigan,_

_It is our duty to inform you that your son, Robert Carrigan, is to report to the nearest United States Armed Forces Center for an induction ceremony into the United States Army on the twenty seventh of September, nineteen forty three. From his induction, he will then be sent to training and eventually into active duty. He is required by the United States Government to comply. Resistance of any kind will be considered a federal crime and a warrant will be sent out for his arrest. His approximate ship-out date is January, 1944._

_The United States Armed Forces_

"This will be good for you, Robert. Just think about how proud everyone will be when you come home," Mr. Carrigan said, giving Robert a pat on the back.

"What about Princeton, Dad?"

"College can always wait, son. It isn't going to get up and walk away. Right now, defending your country should be your main concern."

His father's words swirled in his head as he lay awake later that night. It all did sound very honorable. Though Germany's strength was starting to waver, the Japs seemed unstoppable. Actually, he was surprised this letter had come as late as it did. Most of his friends had either been drafted or voluntarily signed up.

It wasn't that he was against the war or anything. He just wanted to get law school out of the way, and get to work as soon as possible. Unemployment rates were rising fast, with all of the boys fighting for their country, and it was hard enough to make a living as a good lawyer. But as his father said, college could wait. Princeton, nor his parents' steady incomes, were going to get up and walk away.

However, it was undoubtedly frightening at the same time. He had seen countless gold stars hanging in his neighbors' windows, and he'd definitely been to one too many of his friends' funerals. But then again, the Allies were gaining strength, and they had chance of winning the war, if the Japs could be defeated.

The hardest part was telling Pam, his current sweetheart. They'd been going steady since freshmen year. She was head over heels for him, and he admitted he was pretty crazy for her, too. He had seen her many times in the hallway comforting sobbing friends who had found out their boy was coming home in a body bag. Every time he met up with her afterwards, she would bury her head into his chest, mumbling "Thank God you're not over there."

How could he tell her that he was going to be now?

"Pam…there's something I've got to tell you," he started as he met her on their high school's front steps. She smiled, despite his serious expression, and threw her arms around her neck.

"What is it?"

"I've been drafted."

Her bright smile faded, and her grip around his neck loosened considerably. Eventually, her arms dropped to her sides and hung there, her entire form slouching in defeat.

"When do you leave?" she inquired quietly, and Rob could hear her voice waver.

"Probably in a month or two. I'm not sure if I'll be able to come home in between boot camp and my troop shipping out."

She nodded and sniffed, tears starting to drip down her pretty face.

"Hey…" He put a hand under her cheek and tipped it upwards. Deep, beautiful blue eyes sadly stared back at him. "Don't worry about it, okay? I'll be back before you know it."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him, letting her cry into his chest. He hated making her cry; even though she would say later it wasn't his fault, he still felt responsible. But it's what he had to do, and he hoped that she understood that.

--

_December 8, 1944_

"Attention!"

Robert scrambled out of his bunk, wiped off any dirt that may have blemished his white tank, and stood at apt attention as the drill sergeant began to make his rounds. There were the usual late-comers, normally the fresh arrivals who had no idea what they were in for. You could always tell whose platoon had been here for longer periods of time. Robert had only been here for a month or so, but he already felt like a veteran to the whole thing.

There was good reasoning behind the christening of the first week of boot camp to "Hell Week." Rob had never been so exhausted in his entire life. They got up just as the first rays of sunlight were starting to peek over the tops of the trees and went to bed when it was pitch black. He didn't mind the running; he was decent at pacing himself to conserve energy. It was the endless amounts of sit-ups and push-ups they were required to do when they got back from their morning run that he always dreaded.

The second morning there, there was a complete downpour over the area. Of course, the drill sergeant had to pick the muddiest spot in the field to do their exercises. Muscles aching and head pounding, Robert got a face-full of mud more than once, his arms screaming not to do anymore push-ups.

"Carrigan! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" bellowed the drill sergeant somewhere above him.

"Resting, sir,"

"You think the Japs are gonna rest, Carrigan? You think the Germans are gonna rest, Carrigan? Answer me, Private!"

"Sir…no…sir…" he mumbled wearily.

"I SAID ANSWER ME, PRIVATE, NOT GIVE ME A HALF-ASS RESPONSE. I'LL ASK YOU AGAIN, DO YOU THINK THE ENEMY IS GONNA REST?"

"Sir, no, sir!"

"Now get your ass up and I want to see fifty more! Do you understand?!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

He, somehow, had managed to crank out fifty more, falling in an exhausted heap into the mud after he finished. He made a mental note to thank his gym teachers for never making them do anything like that.

Slowly but surely, however, things like that became routine. Rob would occasionally watch in amusement as new privates groaned in pain as they went through the same hell he did. He knew that all of this training would be put to good use. That thought reassured him and terrified him at the same time.

"Well, looky what we have here, boys…not a speck on one of you…although I do expect all of your asses to be out of those beds the second I say attention, do you understand?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" all of them responded.

"Move out!"

The boys scattered and followed their respective platoons. After their morning run and exercises, Rob's platoon headed towards the shooting fields, where they were all handed rifles. As they began shooting practice, it dawned on him that sooner or later, he would no longer be shooting at wooden boards; he would be shooting at people.

--

_January 10, 1944_

Pam sighed as she gathered her books from her locker and headed out of school. Her friends eventually joined her and started up a conversation, but she paid no attention to it. As she clutched Rob's letter sweater around her frame, her heart ached. He was probably on plane to Japan or Germany or wherever this very moment. She was a tad angry with him; he hadn't written or telephoned at all, and he said he would. She knew he was probably busy, but a short note or a quick call would at least subdue her hurting heart.

She shivered as she and her friends stepped into the chilly winter air, snow falling steadily on the school grounds. She started to walk down the steps, and she vaguely realized her friend Emily was desperately trying to get her attention. Finally, she turned towards her. Emily grinned widely as she pointed towards the street.

Following her finger, Pam gasped as, lo and behold, clad in traditional Army Greens and leaning comfortably against his bright blue Chevy convertible, was Rob. She flew down the steps, let her books fall out of her arms, and jumped into his awaiting arms.

"Hey, angel cake," he chuckled as he held her close, releasing her only to give her a sweet kiss. Pam's friends, watching from the steps, swooned.

"I thought you said you wouldn't be back."

"I lied, or rather, I didn't know. I'm actually only here for tonight. I ship out tomorrow, but the sergeant said we were stopping near here for the night, so I thought I'd stop by."

She stood on her toes to press her forehead to his, giggling when he kissed the tip of her nose. "I love you," she murmured.

"I love you, too, but I don't have that many hours to kill. I've got to be back at my place at ten, so what do you want to do?"

"I don't care. Anything. Just let me say goodbye to my girls."

He nodded and she skipped happily over to her friends, all of them sharing squeals of delight.

"He's simply _luscious_, Pam," gushed Emily as she handed her friend her books. "He's top of his class, he's _so_ handsome, serving in the Army, and his dad's _loaded_ with lettuce."

"I know! And he's taking me out tonight. I can't wait! See you later, girls."

She gave them a mocking smirk as she sauntered back over to Rob and got in the passenger side. She waved excitedly as they sped off away from the school.

After a nice dinner out, they drove out to the park and stopped in parking lot. Sooner or later, they found themselves necking in the backseat of the car, an old Duke Ellington tune playing softly from the radio.

"Rob…" she moaned as he trailed down her neck. "Rob, we're going to get caught." He lifted his head up for a moment and cupped a hand to her face.

"You don't want to do this?"

"No, it's not that…it's just…I'm scared."

He sat up for a moment and dug around between the seats, with Pam watching him, nervously biting her nails. He pulled out a flask and handed it to her.

"Here, drink this. It'll calm you down."

She looked at it dubiously. "Where'd you get this?"

"Found it in here. It's probably my dad's. Never had any of it, but it's supposed to help…so I've heard."

She nodded, then hesitantly unscrewed the cap and took a little sip. She winced as the bitter liquid slid down her throat. After a few more sips, she handed it back to Rob, who took a few gulps himself.

After he put in back between the seats, he tipped her face up towards him, giving her the smallest of smiles.

"It'll be fine, I promise," he whispered and she let him take her back into his arms and lay her down on the car seat.

--

_January 31, 1944_

A stony silence settled uneasily in the car. Pam fought the urge to roll her eyes every time her mother gave a small, but heavy sigh, which was frequent. She stared out the car window, calmed by the snow dazzling on the branches of the trees. Anything that calmed her was of great comfort at the moment.

"Pregnant, Pamela? _Pregnant…_" Mrs. Edison trailed off, a few profanities tumbling from her lips. Pam groaned and pressed her forehead against the glass, wishing she could just disappear into the icy wind.

"What in the world are we supposed to tell your father? And our neighbors? And the school?"

"Mom…please-"

"Please what?" she snapped, whipping her head towards her daughter. "Stop yelling at you? Well, I wouldn't have to if you hadn't gotten yourself knocked up!"

Pam didn't respond, because inside, she knew her mother was right. She couldn't help herself; the mood was right and it wasn't like she didn't _want_ to. She, of course, kept those things to herself.

They finally pulled into the driveway and, taking her daughter by the wrist, Mrs. Edison dragged her into the house and forcefully sat her down on the living room couch. Mr. Edison looked up from his evening paper, pleasantly oblivious.

"What seems to be the problem, dear?"

Mrs. Edison placed her hands on her hips and glowered at Pam. "It seems your daughter spent the night with that Carrigan boy before he left and got herself pregnant!" The paper was folded with crackling emphasis, and Mr. Edison's eyes grew wide.

"Pamela? Please say this isn't the truth."

Pam could do nothing but nod. He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. He seemed to be thinking, so neither of the women said anything. Eventually, he looked at both of them with tired eyes.

"Well, we're not going to give it up. That child will be raised correctly. After it becomes obvious of your state, you will stay in the house. Your mother and I will say you are staying with your grandparents. We'll have one of your friends get your schoolwork for you. Once the baby is born, you can go out again. And once Mr. Carrigan comes home, you two will need to get married. Understood?"

After taking all of it in for a moment, Pam nodded, as did her mother. After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, Mrs. Edison sighed and wandered up the steps to her bedroom. Pam stared at her feet and began to draw circles on the hardwood floor.

"I'm sorry, Daddy…" she said quietly. "I really am."

He stood up and sat next to her on the couch, putting an arm around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head.

"I know you are, pumpkin. Don't tell your mother this…but I was wondering when something was going to happen between you at that Carrigan boy."

A trace of a smile played at her lips, then she looked up at him. "Do I really have to marry him? I mean, I love him and everything, but…"

"Yes. You two made the decision to engage in sexual activity, so you will have to accept the responsibilities. Is he hitting you or hurting you in any way?"

"No. It's fine. I'll do it."

"Good." He gave her arm a squeeze and left her with her jumbled thoughts.

--

_June 7, 1944_

Rob's ears rung as bullets continued to whiz by him, eventually to the point where everything became a deafening roar. During his time in Europe, he had realized it was much easier to say that Germany was weakening than it was to prove it. The last several months had been no easy feat.

So many had died. He had nearly lost his mind when his old buddy from Chemistry class, who was devious, yet good-hearted and could wriggle his way out of anything, was found dead in battle. He couldn't believe how naïve he had been before he left. He didn't feel like he was defending liberty or that his country was particularly proud of him. He felt like mindless, heartless machine with one purpose: to kill the enemy.

He was starting to taste blood with the wet dirt that was residing in his teeth, and he realized he was biting on his lip to keep himself from screaming. "Hell Week" was paradise compared to this. Even though they seemed to be successfully advancing through Normandy and into France, soldiers were falling next to him left and right. Whose they were, he wasn't sure, but at this point, he didn't even care.

What he did know is that no gold star or Purple Heart was going replace what parts of his mind he had lost.

00000000

"_American troops have now made their way up Omaha Beach and are heading into the countries of Normandy and France. Despite the numbers of casualties, President Roosevelt says the mission has been a great success."_

Pam shifted her weight as she folded her legs underneath herself while watching the television in the living room. While she hated being kept in the house, at least she had it to herself when her parents went to work. But that also gave her time to worry about Robert, whom she couldn't get off her mind lately.

She doubted if he received the letter she had sent him a few months ago, but she still looked through the mail every morning to see if there was a response from him. She couldn't help but worry, especially now. All of her friends had lost their boyfriends; would she be next? That question nagged at her mind constantly.

She switched off the news, determined not to think about it anymore. However, before she moved on to other things, she closed her eyes and prayed that wherever he was at the moment, he was safe, or at the very least, alive. She didn't want to even comprehend the thought of raising a child alone.

--

_May 25, 1944_

_ February 23, 1944_

_Dear Rob,_

_Hi. It's Pam. There's something I have to tell you. I'm pregnant, Rob. Don't worry, your parents know. They were probably just as infuriated as mine were. I wouldn't know. I've been cooped up in the house for ages, since Mom and Dad don't want anyone to know. It took a lot of convincing to let me send this letter, but I finally said it would be better if you knew. I promise everything is going to be fine. But Rob, there's one other thing. My dad says once the baby is born and you come home, we have to get married. It sounds crazy, I know, but I think it would be for the best. So, I guess what I'm asking is, will you marry me? Don't let my parents get wind of this, but I'll understand if you say no._

_I love you._

_Pam_

_Will you marry me? I'm pregnant, Rob…_ The words echoed in Rob's head as he read Pam's letter over and over again. He should've seen this coming the moment he realized they were going to have sex in the backseat of his car. That's what his father would say. Hopefully, he wouldn't find out about the alcohol they had found.

It seemed his life was going by much too fast. Here he was, at the ripe old age of nineteen and already a soldier, a father and probably a husband. What if he didn't want that kind of life? What about law school?

But then again, he wouldn't want it with anybody else but Pam. He knew he was still young, but at least the two of them loved each other, in one way or the other. This shouldn't have to be completely her burden. It was partially his fault, so he should have to have the same responsibilities she had. And, as always, law school can wait.

--

_October 1, 1944_

Rob gathered his belongings from the back of the truck. He was finally home. He couldn't believe it, either; the government was sending a select few home due to being on the brink of victory. But perhaps that was the very reason he was now home. D-Day had been such a success, Germany was falling apart, and defeat in Europe seemed impossible.

Whatever the reason, it didn't matter to him; he was now home. Just being in the United States put his troubled mind to rest, at least for a few precious moments. As he gave a farewell wave to his fellow soldiers, he walked towards his parents, whom were waiting with Pam's parents by their car.

His father gave him a stern, gruff pat on the back. "Welcome home, son."

His mother was bit more welcome, giving him a kiss on the cheek and gripping him tightly. "We're so glad you're home."

After embracing Mrs. Carrigan, he exchanged brief nods with Edisons, then questioned why they were here.

"Pam's in labor. It could literally be a matter of hours or a matter of days until she has the baby, so we figured that we'd head over to the hospital, if that's alright with you," said Mr. Edison.

He obliged; anything to get his mind off of what he had just come from was comforting. After a mostly silent car ride to the hospital, the little group pulled into the parking lot. As they walked down the never-ending hallways towards her room, Rob's heart pounded. He couldn't believe he was moments, or days, he supposed, away from being a father. The last few months, being in line of fire 24/7 and thinking about Pam, had certainly been something of a whirlwind.

When they entered the room, Pam was asleep. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful and peaceful she looked, even with her gargantuan abdomen. Rob glanced hesitantly back at his parents, then eventually sat on the edge of the bed. His disturbance caused her eyes to flutter open. They grew wide as she realized who was sitting on the end of her bed, and he smiled warmly at her.

Neither of them said anything, but after a while, Rob took her hand, bent over, and placed a soft kiss on her belly.

--

_October 4, 1944_

People who said that the war was the scariest thing they had ever experienced had obviously never witnessed the birth of a child. Pam's screams of pain echoed through the white-washed hallways, giving off an eerie effect that they were actually all in an asylum instead of an infant ward.

Rob had the feeling he was going to lose all of his fingers from her vice-like grip on his hand, seeing purple splotches appear. Nonetheless, he was pretty sure he was nowhere near in the same amount of pain as she was. She moaned pitifully as the doctor urged her to push, squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her head back in excruciating agony.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of this torture, her screams were replaced by those of the newborn child. Her hand immediately went loose in his, and she fell deep into the mattress in an exhausted state. Rob felt his world stop. He was a father. He was a _father._

"It's a boy!" exclaimed one particular nurse in a sing-song voice, bringing a sleeping baby to the arms of Pam. She bit her lip as tears stung her eyes. They were partly out of wonder and even a little out of sadness, but mostly, they were joyful.

Rob scooted off the bed and knelt down beside her, smiling a little at his new son. Light blonde fuzz covered his head and tiny lips curved upward in a small smile. Why Rob was so content, he didn't know; his mind was reeling, but at the same time, he was perfectly calm.

"What should we name him, Rob?" Pam said after a while. He hadn't even thought about that.

"Umm…I don't know." He realized how ridiculously stupid he sounded, but she only grinned.

"How about Maxwell? After your grandfather?" stated a pleased Mr. Carrigan from his position on the wall. Rob couldn't help but chuckle.

"Maxwell…I can already picture him hating that when he's older."

"Why would he hate it? It's a good, strong name."

"Because it's old-fashioned…"

"Why don't we just call him Max, then?" interjected Pam, who wished to avoid an argument on this occasion. The men obliged, and Rob turned back to his son. He finally opened his eyes, which were as dazzlingly bright blue as his mother's.

"Max…I like it," Rob mumbled happily.

--

_December 20, 1968_

"Okay, you got me down here, now what do you want?" Maxwell Carrigan folded his arms and glanced expectantly between his parents. He really had better things to do than listen to his parents lecture him for the fiftieth time in two months. Ever since he dropped out of Princeton and moved to New York, it had been nothing but nagging. Hell, it took a shit load of convincing from Lucy just to come back for Christmas.

Instead of their normal stern glares, their faces looked concerned. Mrs. Carrigan, who had been holding an envelope in her hands since Max had entered the room, delicately handed it to her son. He opened it with obvious apathy, not bothering to read whom the letter was from. Once he unfolded the crisp cardstock, though, his careless attitude immediately dropped.

"Sweetheart…it's not necessarily a bad thing," Mrs. Carrigan started cautiously. Max's face remained expressionless. Mr. Carrigan nodded.

"Your mother's right. This could be good for you. Just think how proud everyone will be."

"Like I honestly give a shit how proud I make our neighbors," Max muttered. Normally, Mr. Carrigan would've scolded his son for not only his language but his cynical outlook on the whole situation, but he understood his bitterness. Vietnam was no World War Two, but it was not going as well as it could be. Max seemed to be in an oddly similar position as his father was in many years ago. While they had had completely different aspirations, they were both young and had other plans for life than fighting in a war they

didn't choose to be involved in.

Mrs. Carrigan sighed, gave Max a kiss on the top of his head, and wandered into the kitchen to clean up from dinner. Mr. Carrigan watched his son read the letter over and over again, his face remaining vacant but his eyes filling with growing concern.

"I bet you're just bursting with pride, aren't you? Your fuck-up son's gonna be honorable soldier," Max mumbled indignantly.

"Son, you have every right to be scared-"

"Who says I'm scared?"

"…no one…" Mr. Carrigan started cautiously as he sat down next to him on the couch. He knew all too well the "dying-for-your-country" wasn't as wonderful as it sounded. "But I was a soldier once, too, you know…"

--

**Phew. Eleven pages.**

**Thanks for reading all of that.**

**Reviews would be lovely.**


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